


My not-so-dead boyfriend, Fred Weasley

by angstycomedicreliefdotcom



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, F/M, Fanfiction, Fred Weasley Dies, Fred Weasley Lives, Gen, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:34:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28168569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angstycomedicreliefdotcom/pseuds/angstycomedicreliefdotcom
Summary: Its based off of a tik tok that's linked below! Go check it out first for context!https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMJgwByoQ/
Relationships: Death/Fred Weasley, Fred Weasley/Original Character(s), Fred Weasley/Original Female Character(s), Fred Weasley/Original Male Character(s)
Kudos: 5





	My not-so-dead boyfriend, Fred Weasley

I couldn’t think, it was so loud, there was so much screaming. I was scared. Well, “scared” being downplayed by far, but, for lack of a better word, it’s what we’ll use. I stood next to what looked like a frightened Gryffindor, or was it Slytherin? Who cares? Someone’s house was the least of our problems, not to mention anyone who truly cared about houses wouldn’t be in this war in the first place, something once so seemingly important now so trivial. My hands were shaking, my whole body was, really. I’m surprised my wand was even still in my hand. I don’t remember much from that day, just running, the pounding of my heart against my chest. There was nothing else really, it was chaos, greens and reds of spells flying everywhere. Being brought out of my thoughts by a loud bang, the Gryffindor, Slytherin, whoever, dragging me by my collar away from what would’ve been my last moments. Quickly thanking them and running off somewhere near the entrance of the school.   
The battle went on for what felt like days but what was really only a few hours, he- Voldemort, telling us we only had an hour before Harry had to give himself up, giving us time to recoup, pretentious bastard. Deciding to regroup with others, I entered the great hall. Almost immediately, I noticed just how many people were laying in the cots, unmoving, silent, and dead. Looking around the room, I regrettably noticed a person or two, someone from my Potions class, a nice girl who helped me study, a boy who was kinder than most. There were some that I didn’t know but that equally stung, it was a boy who had to have been just a little over the age of 11, his arm blown off, he wasn’t dead like the others but he was ghastly white, his family crowding around him. I hadn’t even thought of that, there were kids, children, in this battle, just like him. Quickly averting my eyes I looked to the furthest end of the hall where I noticed a familiar family of redheads, which reminded me, Fred, where’s Fred? Without even thinking, I began to count heads quietly, just under my breath   
“one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight-” I started walking over, sprinting, really.   
“-Nine.”  
My eyes glanced around at everyone around me, and then down at the body before me. Fred. I didn’t understand why they were crying. Why were they crying? This was clearly a mistake or a prank, it had to have been. I looked over at George, someone once so strong, now sobbing, he looked at me with more fear and uncertainty than I had ever seen in anyone. I knew these two forever, I could barely comprehend what had happened. I don't understand why no one was saying anything, was this not a prank? I looked over and scanned Fred, he was pale, I leaned over and gripped his hand, it was cold and lifeless in mine,  
“Good prank Freddie,” I whispered gently, “I know I could never take a joke, but I don’t find this one funny anymore.”   
I gazed at Fred’s hand for a minute, feeling a presence behind me, a slender hand gingerly took mine out of his, my eyes still placed down at my boyfriend’s body.   
“He-” it was Bill, his words came out choked as he held my hand a little tighter, “-he’s dead, y/n.”  
I turned around to face Bill, tears streaming down my face, I blinked once or twice before giving a small smile, for the strength of myself more than anything,  
“He is, isn’t he?”   
Bill, without speaking hugged me, and before I knew it, the whole family was hugging.

It had been about two days since the battle, Fred hadn’t even been buried yet, the Weasley family insisted on burying his body near the burrow so they could all still visit him, luckily for me they were kind enough to let me stay during these long few days, insisting I needed people around right now, knowing how close Fred and I were. George and I wouldn’t really talk about it, neither of us really having come to terms with it. I was doing better than George, he had rarely spoken a word since that day in the great hall, I suppose the jokes reminded him of Fred.   
Night came before I knew it. I was back in my usual spot that I had slept these past few years whenever I came to the burrow, I was laid down on a set of cushions, layered with blankets, between Fred and George’s beds. George came into the room, glancing at Fred’s bed expectantly before he looked back down, glancing at me, and went over, turned out the light, and got into bed. As the late hours of the night began to creep in, all I could do was stare at the ceiling and wish, pray to whatever god, muggle or not, that Fred hadn’t died, that he was still here. I clenched my eyes shut as a soft sob escaped my mouth, all I wanted was for him to be back.  
Maybe it was the gods, maybe it was my exceptional skill for wordless magic, or maybe it was the unanimous mourning of a family, but the next morning when I woke up I dragged myself to the bathroom and looked in the sink as I brushed my teeth, I felt a presence behind me, a pair of oddly familiar arms wrapped around my torso in the same way Fred used to do. My eyes shot up and I whipped around,  
It was Fred, nearly the same, still towering over me as always, yet his face, neck, and body covered in badly put together stitches where the blast had affected him the worst.  
“What did I miss?”


End file.
